Frederick Douglass
A hush is over all the teeming lists,
And there is pause, a breath-space in the strife;
A spirit brave has passed beyond the
And vapors that obscure the sun of life
A hush is over all the teeming lists,
And there is pause, a breath-space in the strife;
A spirit brave has passed beyond the
And vapors that obscure the sun of life
IF life were but a dream, my Love,
And death the waking time;
If day had not a beam, my Love,
And night had not a rhyme, —A barren, barren world were
"I am but clay," the sinner plead,
Who fed each vain desire
"Not only clay," another said, "But worse, for thou art mire
"
Fling out your banners, your honors be bringing,
Raise to the ether your paeans of praise
Strike every chord and let music be ringing
Celebrate freely this day of all days
If I could but forget The fullness of those first sweet days,
When you burst sun-like thro' the haze Of unacquaintance, on my sight,
And made the wet, gray day seem bright While clouds themselves grew fair to see
And since, no day i...
AN angel, robed in spotless white,
Bent down and kissed the sleeping Night
Night woke to blush; the sprite was gone
Men saw the blush and called it Dawn
EN storms
And dark'ning
About me threat'ning lower,
To thee,
I like to hear of wealth and gold,
And El Doradoes in their glory;
I like for silks and satins bold To sweep and rustle through a story
The nightingale is sweet of song;
Ah,
Douglass, we have fall'n on evil days,
Such days as thou, not even thou didst know,
When thee, the eyes of that harsh long ago Saw, salient, at the cross of devious ways,
Ring out, ye bells
All Nature
With gladness at the wondrous story, — The world was at lorn, But Christ is
To change our sadness into glory
He was a poet who wrote clever verses,
And folks said he had a fine poetical taste;
But his father, a practical farmer, accused him Of letting the strength of his arm go to waste
He called on his sweetheart each Saturday evening,
What dreams we have and how they
Like rosy clouds across the sky; Of wealth, of fame, of sure success, Of love that comes to cheer and bless;
And how they wither, how they fade,
The waning wealth, the jilting jade — The fame that fo...